


The color of her headbands

by softmullen



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 04:59:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18804193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softmullen/pseuds/softmullen
Summary: Our story began with the color of her headbands just to end with the color of her now empty house at the end of the street that got painted over.





	The color of her headbands

I think back to the first day I met her. The first time I saw her. And the first time I spoke to her. I think back to how different my life was before that windy Saturday, my second day at work. How I spotted her in the crowded isles at the flea market, a few feet away from my stand. I remember seeing her headband, it’s what caught my eye. It was a light shade of pink, it looked like it was made completely out of tape. My eyes didn’t leave her as she walked right past the stand I stood at and stopped two down. I didn’t look away until the guy I was working with called out to me.

That whole week I looked for in the crowds. I looked for any sign of a handmade headband, I looked for the short black hair and her colorful clothes. I didn’t see her until the following Saturday, the same day as the week before. I saw another headband, it was a neon green that matched perfectly with her belt. I admired the way you could clearly tell she made them herself, but how nicely done it was that you know people would buy them. That Saturday she talked to me, she came up to my stand and asked how much the buttons were selling for. I explained the different sizes and designs mean different prices, and how if you bought so many you can get so much off. 

After that I kind of knew she only came on Saturday’s, so every Saturday that I worked, I looked for a headband and hoped she came over, sometimes she did. She bought buttons a few times but not enough, I liked talking to her, I liked hearing her voice. It was so soft when she thanked me, and her smile was so bright that I thought just for moment, she might not even be real. But the more she came, and the more we talked, the more I just wanted to hold her hand. To feel the softness of her skin against mine, to run my fingers through her short hair. I hadn’t even known her name yet and all i wanted to do was be next to her.

I noticed that each and every time I saw her, she had a different headband on. A different color. There was a baby blue one and a dark blue one, she wore a white one with black stripes and a purple one with green dots. She had a rainbow one and an all red one. I remember the first time I ever saw her outside of work, I was walking down the street with my brother and there she was. It was so crazy, it felt like a whole other world, a different universe where maybe we could actually know each other. 

She called out to me. My heart was probably in my toes, I don’t see where else it would be. I was frozen in place as she ran over to us, “Hi, button girl right?” I think my brother seen the blush grow across my pale cheeks. I think i forgot we didn’t actually know each other though, I spent so much time with her on my mind that her not even knowing my name was quite weird.

“Headband girl, right?” I could’ve swore she blushed too, but the sun made it almost impossible to see anything on her face. Her hand slowly reached up and touched her now bright yellow headband that matched her yellow dress. “You like my headbands?” She asked me softly.

And some would say that’s where our story began, I guess in some way it kind’ve was. But I like to think it started that first Saturday. That first time i saw her in the crowd. That’s when our story actually began, that’s when things started to change for me, that’s when she didn’t leave my head, at all. 

I sit here, drinking my small cup of coffee thinking about the first time I ever fell in love. Thinking about how deeply my 15 year old self felt for brunette girl who stole my heart with the color of her headbands. I think about how we spent the rest of that summer together. I think about how she taught me to make small things out of paper, like hearts and cranes. 

I decided that day that paper hearts were our thing. 

I remember on the days I worked that weren’t Saturdays, I would look around and try to find things that she could use, things she could make into something else. I remember the first time we had a sleepover, how I could see her looking at me from the corner of her eye from across the bed, or how she insisted I slept in her bed with her. Maybe she didn’t have to really persuade me into it, I guess I wanted to. I did wake up in her arms the next the morning, and that’s when i realized that maybe this wasn’t a one sided thing.

10 years is a long time, it’s crazy that I remember so much. Even if she was the first person I ever fell in love with, even if she was the first person to ever have my heart completely, I still didn’t think I would remember as much as I did. I was a child, it shouldn’t have been that serious. I mean, she came into my life. She left me with the memories. Everything was the same yet everything felt like it was different. 

Why was this even on my mind right now? Why are the memories of this girl I once loved on my mind right now? 

And then i remembered something else. I remember the first time I learned her name. How good it felt to have a name go with the thoughts in my head. Andi Mack. It was so pretty, so angel-like. 

Then everything hit me at once. I remembered when our story ended. I remember how I cried, how I sat in my bed for days and how I couldn’t talk to anyone. I remember Tj being down there with me everyday, all day. He would bring me soup and other things I needed, I don’t think we’ve ever spent so much time together.

10 years later, I’m sitting here with a pen in my hand, ready to finish the last page of my book and all I can think about is Andi. And as I finish up the last line I feel a tear fall down my cheek onto my paper. 

I hope you’re well.  
I hope you’re happy.  
I hope you’re still creative.  
And I hope you never forget about me like I never forgot about you.

Our story began with the color of her headbands just to end with the color of her now empty house at the end of the street that got painted over.

**Author's Note:**

> this is really short but the concept is cute


End file.
